Mother
by neoqueen11
Summary: Kris has a long history of finding trouble and an unsettling past to prove it. When Kris encounters the Winchester brothers, the trouble seems to amplify; even more troubling is the unfolding future and a powerful demon hell-bent on carrying out plans.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: In the Beginning.

My story really begins several years ago. I was on a date with the first boy I really liked. I was too young then to realize how strong my feelings actually were. It was an exciting night. We went to a movie, got ice cream, and under the stars in the middle of the city park he kissed me. I remember it because it was the type of kiss that pulls the breath out of your lungs. It made my knees shake and my head swim at the same time. It was the type of kiss that blocks out the rest of the world, which is why neither of us noticed the strange figure approaching from behind the cover of trees.

My first boyfriend was stabbed through the heart and died only moments later. I was too shocked to do anything and I didn't react until I felt the same knife cut into my stomach. Later in the hospital several doctors explained to me that the stab wound was actually in my lower abdomen. In the same conversation I learned my attacker had effectively robbed me of my ability to bear children. Bastard. The attacker left me in the park, bleeding and in shock. I eventually retrieved my cell phone and dialed the police, but before anyone arrived I blacked out.

That was the first attack. Most people are fortunate enough to never experience being attacked or stabbed. For me, the incident in the park was the first of many unfortunate events. After several weeks in the hospital I was allowed to return home. The first week home was quiet enough. I spent time with my parents and sister, working to regain my strength and mobility. It wasn't until the second week home that the fire occurred. Officials are unsure about how the fire started, but in any case, my family was consumed with the house. A pipe exploded in the ceiling of my room, showering me with water and keeping the flames at bay until rescuers pulled me out of the room through my window.

After the fire, I went to live with extended family only to be greeted with accident after accident, death after death. Until finally, I found myself alone in the world, covered with the scars of misfortune and burdened by the weight of loneliness. All my family was gone and I was alone and broken. I felt marked by an omen of death, anyone important in my life died in unexplained accidents and freak attacks.

People like to say that when you hit rock bottom the only place to go is up. I don't think those people have ever really experienced tragedy. Things did settle in my life, at least for a couple years. I was young then and living on my own. I went to college on scholarships and I worked at a gun range to buy groceries and pay the rent. In my free time I learned how to defend myself and I persuaded the range owners to let me practice my shooting after close. Eventually, I became well known at the gun and archery range for my skills and accuracy.

Despite multiple coping mechanisms, I was alone and terrified of losing more loved ones, so I didn't open my heart again until my last year of college. The second boy I really liked brought me flowers from the ocean and he made me smile and laugh out loud. He never judged my scars or issues, and it wasn't until he kissed me that I saw his killer.

We were eating dinner in a restaurant and on the way out he pulled me into a hallway to kiss me, my second kiss. It wasn't until after the kiss that I saw it…a monster or ghost or something unnatural. We were terrified and stunned when it approached. The lights flickered, the air was cold, and it reached into my second boyfriend and squeezed the life out of him. When he stopped breathing the creature turned to me, but rather than kill me it pressed itself up against my body and engulfed me in a deathly cold. My doctor told me later that my internal organs had been damaged by the hyperthermia and my ovaries were destroyed. He assured me that "hallucinations" were common under conditions of severe emotional distress.

I finished college devastated and with nowhere to go. My doctors worried about my mental health and my "hallucinations" so I decided to leave and travel around the country. It was when I began to travel and explore more that I experienced more "hallucinations," as my doctors would label it. I learned that the first poltergeist I encountered had opened my eyes to a world of supernatural creatures I had never dreamed of.

Over the course of several months, I encountered angry spirits, werewolves, shapeshifters, vampires, demons, and supernatural creatures I can't even begin to describe. I learned how to defend myself quickly against all different types of creatures. I began to carry around a bow and silver and iron-tipped arrows, which seemed to work effectively at eliminating many common "hallucinations." Eventually, I found an iron machete and silver knife that I would strap to my body and hide under a leather jacket. I decided to stop being a victim of circumstance and started to search for supernatural creatures, hunting them before they could hunt me.

It wasn't until after almost a year of traveling and defending and hunting that I encountered two unique individuals. Within minutes of meeting I sensed a new chapter in my life was beginning…


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Midnight Stroll

The blood pumping through my veins pounded in my ears. Adrenaline was surging through my body, propelling my legs forward as I sprinted past tall pine trees and ground brush. I could hear the ragged breath of the beasts behind me; one monster was gaining ground rapidly. I pushed forward in the dark, dodging roots and fallen trees. I knew the road was somewhere up ahead, I needed a clear shot if I wanted to make it through the night.

A frightening howl rippled through the night and I could sense the excitement in the pack of monsters behind me. Then there it was, less than a hundred meters to my right I saw the headlights of a car slowing to a stop. I realized, someone was about to be in the wrong place at the right time. Their lives would be changed like mine had been many years ago.

The breath stung my lungs as I burst through the trees and onto the road. The car was parked, headlights still shining into the darkness. Two figures quickly emerged from the car, obviously startled by my sudden appearance. I didn't have time to ask questions. I spun around, my breath still heavy from my sprint, pulling the bow off my shoulder and a silver-tipped arrow from the quiver strapped to my back. Kneeling down, I nocked the arrow and drew back the bowstring, waiting and listening intently for the approaching monster.

Time almost stood still when the beast emerged from the trees. Its eyes glowed bloody-thirsty red in the darkness and it lunged forward extending razor sharp claws into the air. A werewolf is a fearsome monster designed for killing. I didn't hesitate for a second. I released the arrow then threw myself to the side, praying for clearance from the out-stretched claws.

The werewolf cried out in pain and crumpled to the grounds beside me. I managed to roll away, but its extended arm connected with my shoulder and tore my skin into splinters. More adrenaline and pain surged through my body as I rolled to my feet and clamored back to standing. I drew another arrow and automatically released, the werewolf stopped moving.

I looked up, suddenly aware of the attention from the bystanders and the two other werewolves crashing through the trees.

"Get out of here!" I screamed, "Drive away as fast as you can!" But it was too late. The second beast burst onto the road behind the car, filled with the fury of a hunt and excited by the scent of new prey. I drew my third arrow as the creature charged forward.

The driver stood motionless between me and the werewolf, but then, from the passenger side of the car, two loud gun shots rang out. The werewolf folded over and tumbled to the ground. It whimpered before becoming still. I blinked in astonishment and then cried out again, "Get out of here! A gun won't work! You need silver bullets."

There was another crash from the woods and before I could respond the third werewolf lunged out of the brush towards me. I dropped my bow but held the arrow forward, piercing the beast through the heart as it collided with my body. I heard its jaws snap, felt razors slice through my skin, and lost my breath as I tumbled across the road with the angry monster.

The arrow held strong and the werewolf growled ferociously. I was pinned under its heavy, angry body. I closed my eyes and cringed, waiting with baited breath for my final blow. The beast lifted up, crouching on top of me. It was injured and dying, but desperate to make a final kill. Two more gun shots rang out and I felt the werewolf snap backwards before falling lifelessly on top of me.

I heard footsteps approaching and muffled shouting. "Sam…get the extra ammo! And bring the kit!"

There was an audible grunt and the weight of the werewolf was lifted from my body.

"Can you pull yourself out?" I was looking up at a young man, somewhere in his mid-twenties. He had short dark hair, a medium build and wore a leather jacket. I nodded and started to drag myself away from the dead beast. Things were becoming hazy and I struggled with the last few feet.

More footsteps approached and I felt strong arms lift me off the ground and onto my feet. My head was swimming and my breath was labored. I felt like an elephant was sitting on my chest pressing the life out of my body.

"We've got to stop the bleeding," a new voice said.

"Hey…" fingers snapped near my ears, "can you hear me?"

I lifted my head and tried to find my balance, but my legs felt like melting jello. Strong arms held me up and began pulling me towards the parked car.

"You need to get out of here," I struggled to say, "We need silver bullets, otherwise they are just stunned," I pleaded.

"They aren't stunned lady. But you are a mess, we need to get you somewhere for help," the first man said. I looked down and my blood stained clothes and tried to piece together what type of medical attention I needed, but my sight became blurry and my thoughts were even cloudier.

"It didn't bite me," I managed to explain.

"We know…" the strong arms began to say, but I blacked out before I could hear anything else.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Brothers

A car backfired in the parking lot. I could hear it, but I wasn't able to make much sense of where the noise came from.

My body ached and my legs felt stiff. As awareness trickled into my mind, I realized I could hardly move my left arm or upper body. There was a dull throb behind my eyes and I felt so thirsty that I could drink a lake. I groaned and pressed my mobile hand against my forehead.

"Good morning sunshine." A voice from nearby rang out. I opened my eyes slowly, letting them adjust to the midday light filtering in through the closed window curtains. I surveyed my surroundings slowly, letting consciousness seep back into my body. I was lying on a stiff motel bed, the kind that has scratchy blankets and sheets that have been washed one too many times. There was an empty bed next to my right, a kitchenette at the foot of the bed and a bathroom to my left. Sitting in a small chair near the front door was the young man with a medium build and dark hair.

"Where am I?" I groaned. I couldn't sit up or move much, so I rolled over slightly to get a better look at the man.

"That's not really important right now," the man said. He stood up from the chair and walked over to the empty bed, sitting down across from me. His presence made me feel suddenly vulnerable and confused. The scent of his leather jacket washed over me as he sat down.

"I can't move," I said slowly.

"That's probably because you have more bandages on your body right now than you do skin," he replied, leaning forward.

I lifted the covers with my mobile hand and noticed most of my left arm, chest, and stomach were covered in a thick layer of white gauze. My legs had various patches of bandages taped onto the remaining skin. I was wearing an unfamiliar flannel shirt and dark blue boxers.

"Where are my clothes?" I asked and turned my head to meet his gaze.

"What were you doing out in the woods like that?" he asked, ignoring my question.

"Midnight stroll," I snapped and rolled back to look at the ceiling, "Where are my things?"

"That was some stroll," he began, "One werewolf is difficult to hunt down, but trying to take out three is down-right suicide."

"Does it really matter?" I asked slightly surprised at his mention of werewolves. "Why won't you answer my question?"

"It does matter," he said pausing, "I'll answer your questions just as soon as I figure out who the hell you are and what the hell is wrong with you." His words were sharp.

I didn't say anything for several minutes. My head still felt foggy and my body ached ferociously. I'd never met anyone before that could talk about hunting monsters like it was a normal American past-time. Finally, I took a deep breath and rolled over again to meet his gaze.

"I'm Kris. I'm from out of town. I stumbled on the pack by accident." I tried to explain. He didn't say anything immediately, instead he just looked at me intently and clenched his hands together. A silver medallion secured by a leather strap dangled from his neck, is swayed gently as he shifted his weight.

"You've been asleep for almost four weeks," he finally said, "A lunar cycle has already passed, but you need to stay here for observation just to be sure."

"four weeks?" I reacted and tried to sit up, instantly regretting the motion. "How is that possible?" I croaked.

"By the time you got stitched back together and bandaged you up, we didn't think you were ever going to wake up. You lost a lot of blood on the road and the last monster tackle broke several bones," he looked serious and then a smile flit across his face, "don't get me wrong, the tackle and kill was awesome, but not in a good way for you."

I blinked in astonishment several times and rolled over again to look at the ceiling. Four weeks was a very long time to be asleep.

"You know about werewolves," I stated.

"You know about werewolves," he replied. There was silence for several minutes until I realized I was desperately thirsty.

"I'm sure we will have a lot of fun arguing to do, but is there any way I can get a glass of water?" I asked. I turned to look at him pleadingly.

"Yeah, give me a minute." The young man stood and walked to the chair he had been sitting in. From underneath, he lifted an old canvas duffel bag and expertly searched through the contents. After several moments he pulled out an old silver canteen. Giving it a shake, he returned to my bed and sat down next to me. "It's been a challenge keeping you alive," he said, "drinking probably isn't going to be easy or comfortable."

"I can handle it," I assured him.

"Alright, I'm going to lift you up. Don't struggle, it just makes the process more difficult." Gently, he leaned forward and with one arm, reached behind my back, lifting me into a seated position. I flinched at the pain in my entire body. There was a sharp stab in my stomach and my shoulder screamed with the lift. "Drink slowly," he instructed.

I took the canteen in my mobile hand and lifted it to my lips, taking small slow sips. I felt desperately thirsty, but each drink shot torrents of pain through my chest and stomach. Despite my thirst, I had to stop drinking after several swallows.

"Done?" he asked. His voice was less sharp than before.

"Yeah. Thanks." I replied. He set the canteen down on the bedside table and grabbing some extra pillows, propped me up to be seated.

"I'm Dean, I'm not sure what you remember, but the other guy you met is my brother, Sam. Now, explain to me what the hell is going on," Dean sat back and met my eyes. He looked anxious and exhausted, like he hadn't slept well in a long time.

"What do you mean?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Explain to me how you stumbled on a pack of werewolves, how you managed to kill two of them with arrows, and how you pieced your body, which was pretty damn near shattered, back together in a matter of weeks," Dean explained. His tone became increasingly harsh and I noticed the hilt of a gun glittering on the inside of his jacket.

"I don't know," I snapped.

"You don't know? Do you expect me to believe that crap?" Dean shot back arrogantly.

"Yes."

Dean paused for a moment and stared at me. His structured hair cut made me wonder if he had ever spent time in the armed forces. He shook his head and rubbed his hands together.

"I'm not trying to be obstinate," I began, "I just don't have an explanation for you." I stopped and met Dean's gaze. "I was in the woods looking into some strange sounds and I walked right into a pack having dinner. It wasn't pretty. I turned and ran as fast as I could and the headlights from your car guided me to the road." As I explained I tried to recall what had happened.

"I've never even seen a pack of werewolves before," Dean said.

"Neither have I, but for some reason I seem to attract trouble," I replied disdainfully.

"Do you always hike through the woods with silver-tipped arrows, a bow, iron machete and silver knife strapped to your body?" Dean countered.

"In general, yes. I find it's always best to be prepared for the worst," I snapped. Silence fell over the room and Dean ran his hand through his hair, his frustration evident on his face.

"Alright. I get it. You are a hunter and you don't like sharing stories. Just explain to me why you aren't dead," Dean finally requested.

"I'm a faster healer," I replied sharply.

"A faster healer?" Dean asked.

"I guess. I don't know. I mean, look, I've been checked out for the last four weeks. Obviously I haven't healed that fast. I don't know what you want to hear Dean. Maybe the doctors around town are really skilled," I finally said, exasperated and suddenly very tired.

Dean chuckled and looked at his hands. He exhaled audibly and met my eyes again. "There were no doctors involved lady. Sam and I stitched you back together. We couldn't risk the questions and possible…eh…contamination."

I blinked at Dean's explanation, suddenly taken back by what he said.

"No modern medicine?" I asked gently.

"Nothing that wasn't readily available. Sam managed to score some antibiotics, but that was about it," Dean continued. I could tell he was trying to read my expression for a reaction.

"Where are my clothes? Where are my things?" I finally squeaked, "I need to go." I tried to move and cringed at the pain that shot through my body. Forcing myself forward I lifted the sheets and tried to swing my legs onto the floor just causing myself to tumble forward.

"Whoa!" Dean reacted quickly, grabbing my shoulders and pressing me back into the bed. "You aren't going anywhere."

"I need to go. I can take care of myself," I muttered, exhausted, in ferocious pain, but unwilling to give up.

"You're upset because we stitched you back together?" Dean asked, holding me in place. He was stronger than me, especially now.

"No…Yes…No." I sputtered. "I'm grateful, thank you, but I…"

"Look, your clothes were scraps when we got you into the room, but your..uh…things are stowed under the bed," Dean interrupted. His expression was softer and I sensed he was trying to be comforting. "Sam will be back in a little bit with food. You need to stay put so that you don't pull your stitches out."

Still tired, I finally relaxed and let myself sink into the pillows propping me up. I gazed wearily at Dean until he finally released me and sat back, the gun still glittering under his leather jacket.

"Are you going to shoot me?" I finally asked.

Dean tilted his head quizzically and I nodded towards the gun secured inside his jacket.

"Do you always carry around a gun?" I asked.

"Yes, generally," Dean grinned, "Although not always loaded with silver bullets." His smile was too charming to be threatening.

"You are a cocky bastard, aren't you?" I queried, leaning my head back onto the pillows.

"I've been called that before," Dean replied. He paused as the sound of a car engine approached the door. It purred gently before shutting off. "That's probably Sammy," Dean explained, rising from the bed.

There was a sound at the door of a key being pressed into the lock and then the hinges screaming as another young man entered the room.

"Sammy…I'm starving. What did you bring? It better be good." Dean welcomed.

"The usual, oh…" Sam stopped, looking directly at me. He was taller than Dean and looked slightly younger. His hair was loose and shaggy, and he wore a worn denim jacket over a flannel shirt. "You are awake," Sam finally said.

"Barely," I replied. The exhaustion was evident in my voice.

Sam handed the brown grocery bag he was carrying to Dean and walked to the empty bed.

"Thanks," Dean barked as Sam pressed the groceries into him, obviously distracted.

"I'm Sam, you already met Dean?" Sam introduced as he sat down.

"I'm Kris," I offered hesitantly.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked un-phased by my hesitation.

"Um…immobile?" I replied.

Across the room Dean was digging through the paper bag and pulled out a glass bottle of beer. "Sammy, what the hell? Baby food?" Dean asked, revealing several jars of strained fruit and vegetables. Sam looked over to Dean and shook his head bemusedly.

"The baby food isn't for us. There is a burger and fries near the bottom of the bag. Keep looking," Sam paused and turned back to meet my gaze, "Sometimes it's like living with a five-year old," he joked.

I smiled slightly and felt myself physically relax. Talking with Dean had put me on edge, but Sam had already eased away some of the tension.

"I don't know if I can eat anything…even baby food," I tried to explain.

"I know, but eventually you will have to eat something. It has been a long time since you have been awake. Did Dean tell you that?" Sam asked.

"Four weeks." I said.

"Right. There are some very strange things happening, we were waiting for you to wake up in hopes of getting some answers. Do you feel up to answering questions?" Sam continued.

"I can try my best," I replied.

"Great," Sam said. He smiled and rested his elbows on his knees. In the background Dean had discovered several burgers and without waiting for Sam, started to eat.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Yellow-eyed History

I spent the next week with Sam and Dean Winchester, trying my best to piece together the story of their broken lives without divulging the details of my own broken history. Eventually I learned that Sam and Dean had initially come to town to investigate a potential demonic possession. In the end, they weren't able to turn up much information but they did stumble upon evidence of a werewolf...or as I had discovered in the woods, several werewolves.

Sam and I spent the majority of our time together talking about past experiences and exchanging notes of different encounters. I felt much more comfortable around Sam and avoided spending alone time with Dean. When it came down to the details of taking care of my injuries, Sam was always around to help change bandages and redress wounds. I've never really been alone with a man before without feeling the presence of death, but Sam made me feel comfortable, even in my naked, broken, and bruised state.

It took me an entire week of being awake before I could eat, drink, or even move comfortably, and even then I was severely limited in my abilities. Sam and Dean never left me alone either. One or the other would usually stay with me while the other went out for food or to do more research. By the end of the first week I was awake, I began to recognize the secretive qualities I valued for my own safety in both Sam and Dean Winchester.

Its astonishing how quickly situations can change. For a moment, I almost felt safe in that dingy motel room with Sam and Dean. I almost felt like I had someone to count on. Change sure feels like a swift kick in the ass.

It was the night after the eighth day I had been awake. I spent the evening watching Dean devour a burger and fries. Being to exhausted to eat, I laid down, pulled the scratchy motel comforter over my head and quickly drifted into oblivion. But, unlike the previous nights, I felt myself maintain an acute awareness of my surroundings. I wasn't dreaming, I was standing in a memory from the past that was resurfacing quickly.

I found myself standing alone in a darkened living room, surrounded by old chairs and a beat-up couch. There were pictures of familiar faces hanging on the walls, each image was distorted by time and subconscious suppression. On the opposite side of the room there was a shadowy doorway, I felt it calling for me, tugging at my legs.

When I crossed the doorway I found myself standing in a moonlit nursery. There was a lonely wooden crib standing in the middle of the room and two figures beside it, looking down at a sleeping baby. The figures were cloaked in uncomfortable darkness, and I could sense something deeply sinister in the room.

"How do you know she is the one?" a feminine voice emerged from the darkness.

"It was whispered in my ear during the last call," a deeper voice replied.

"What do we do?" the female voice asked.

"We are going to add a little twist to the recipe. We need to give this one a little extra kick to start. When the time comes, we'll make additional modifications." The words hung in the air like something rotten.

From the darkness, I watched in horror, frozen in place, as a glowing silver blade emerged from beneath the shadow of the figure on the right. For the first time, I caught a glimpse of yellow glowing eyes glaring down into the crib.

"Remember this one Lilith," the deeper, presumably male voice hissed, "When she is old enough, you must plant the seed. I will be, unavailable." My breath caught in my chest and I wanted to cry out, terrified by the darkness in the room, by the evil standing in front of me. I wanted desperately to reach for my bow and arrows, let loose two kisses of death and protect the child from whatever was about to happen, but I was unable to move, barely able to breathe.

The figure on the right drew his arm across the crib and in a swift motion, dragged the glowing blade across his wrist. There was a disturbing hiss and I could smell something foul, like rotten eggs. From the shadowed figure, blood began to drip into the crib and onto the child. I couldn't see how much blood was pouring into the crib, but the figure remained motionless for several minutes.

"Bless this child Lilith. Bless our mother with the gifts she will need to accomplish her purpose." The cloud of evil filling the room became thicker as the other figure coated her fingers with blood and then reached into the crib to mark the baby.

I felt sick. I wanted to cry out and wake up, but I couldn't tear myself away from the scene. Tears were starting to stream down my cheeks and I felt disgusted by the vision in front of me. I let out a muffled cry and then a louder sob. It was then that I noticed the yellow eyes had turned away from the crib to look directly at me. For an instant I felt a connection through time and space. It knew I was watching.

"Now you know," the rotten voice hissed. I sobbed again and felt a burst of pain in my stomach. My body felt on fire, but there were no flames consuming me. I wrapped my hands across my stomach as searing cramps made my knees buckle. I cried out and felt wetness, blood, dripping from my belly. The pain was becoming overwhelming and I felt the room quickly slipping away from me.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Double Vision

I tried to muffle a scream as I sat up suddenly in bed. Sweat was dripping down my back and my breathe was ragged. Real pain throbbed in my belly, I had pulled out some stitches with my reaction. It was dark in the motel room, but I could hear movement next to me.

"Whoa, what just happened?" A lamp clicked on and Dean was looking at me from a chair across the room. In the other bed, Sam was sitting up, drenched in sweat and breathing hard.

"I...I don't know. I had a nightmare...I think," I muttered, trying to catch my breath and slow my heart. There was a momentary anxious silence in the room.

"That wasn't a nightmare Kris," Sam finally said, "You just had a vision. I just had the same vision...I saw you there in the nursery with the yellow-eyed demon."

I looked at Sam astonished and suddenly terrified. Everything had seemed so real, the pain, the yellow eyes, the evil. Across the room Dean looked stunned, then confused, and then angry. He sat up and threw his legs on the ground.

"What just happened? Are you saying you just had the same vision? About the yellow-eyed demon? We blew that bastard away six months ago." Dean spewed. He shook his head as he spoke and shifted his gaze back and forth between me and Sam.

"We had a vision?" I asked Sam slowly. My head was spinning and I felt a trickle of blood on my stomach. "Oh God, I think I pulled out my stitches," I mumbled aware of the ache in my belly.

"Oh, uh, don't move," Sam instructed and swung his legs out of bed, "Dean, pass me the first aid kit and the needle."

"What?..Eh, sure, here ya go," Dean reached for his duffel bag, seemingly dazed and pulled out the kit and needle. He tossed them to Sam, who set them on the bed near my legs.

"Okay Kris, you need to turn towards me and lay down, I need to see how many stitches we have to replace. You need to calm down and take some deep breathes."

I nodded obediently and laid back on my pillow. Sam pulled the sheets off my legs and started to unbutton my flannel shirt. He carefully removed my bandages and assessed the damage.

"Dude, seriously?" Dean finally asked, he cleared his throat and then approached the bed, "What type of vision was it? A future one, or like a don't eat bacon-cheeseburgers before bed one?" Dean walked up next to Sam and was looking down quizzically at Sam and me. I suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. Sam ignored Dean and focused on helping me.

"We had the same vision Sam?" I finally chimed in, "How does that happen? How do visions even happen at all?" I felt myself tense up.

"Kris, I know this is hard to hear, but I have visions. Not regularly and never with other people, but I have had premonitions," Sam explained softly. I felt a shot of pain on my stomach and heat from his fingertips.

"Ouch...be careful, " I reacted, but tears had already started to pool in my eyes.

"It's true," Dean confirmed. He had walked back to the end of the bed and was standing with his arms crossed and his attention still fixed on me. Sam looked up at Dean, and then back at me, noting my obvious discomfort.

"Dean, could you look away or get some clean bandages or something?" Sam requested and turned back to me, "You pulled out about fifteen stitches Kris. I'm gonna put them back in so you can heal, but I think there is going to be a scar."

I swallowed audibly and watched with relief as Dean turned away, rubbing his temples and shaking his head slowly back and forth. I looked away when I saw Sam pull a needle and thread out of the first aid kit. He was an effective enough doctor, I just didn't have the strength to watch myself get stitched back together. Sam left the top buttons of the flannel shirt buttoned, but I had to lay with my stomach exposed as he worked to repair the damage.

I finally asked, "You saw it all Sam?"

Sam stopped what he was doing and set his hand on my knee, "I did." He returned to his work.

"What does it mean?" I asked. I heard Dean exhale loudly, his frustration was evident.

"It's hard to say," Sam paused and I felt his fingertips on my stomach again, "In the past, I have had visions about things that were happening or about to happen. But like Dean said, we killed the yellow-eyed demon six months ago, so the vision must have been of something that happened in the past."

"Do you know who Lilith is?" I asked. Dean spun around, his eyes were wide and his brow was furled.

"You had a vision about Lilith?" Dean accused. I snapped my head toward him and glared.

"Its not as though I made it happen Dean. Watch your tone," the words shot out of my mouth with more venom than I meant to direct toward Dean. For a moment Dean looked stunned, then his shoulders fell and I could tell he was forcing himself to relax. Sam remained focused on his task.

"Look, the details are still murky, but it seems that Lilith is a pretty big player, and Sam and I aren't sure exactly what her game is." Dean finally explained.

"Kris, I'm almost done, but this last stitch might be uncomfortable," Sam interrupted. There was a sudden tug and I felt a superficial ache in my belly. I heard the swish of scissors and felt Sam lean away from my legs. "Don't move yet, we need to replace the bandages," Sam instructed. I was still glaring at Dean, unable to mask my frustration and fear as Sam replaced the bandages across my stomach and buttoned my shirt.

"I need to wash my hands, Dean, be useful and help Kris sit up without pulling out her new stitches," Sam instructed as he stood and retreated to the bathroom. Dean glared at Sam and then turned to me.

"Sister, you sure spend a lot of time getting stitched back together," Dean criticized as he approached me. I felt discomfort and embarrassment wash through my cheeks and I could tell by the heat underneath my eyes that I was blushing violently. I constantly felt guarded around Dean. His eyes were always intense whenever he looked at me, and it made me feel vulnerable.

I was laying on the bed with my legs hanging over the edge. Dean stepped between my knees and leaned over my body, placing a strong arm next to my shoulder for support. He gently reached behind my back and slowly lifted me to a seated position. Despite the massive quantity of cheeseburgers the man consumed, he smelled like something earthy and masculine and intoxicating.

I stared hard at Deans shoulders and said, "I'd like to say its not my fault, but it seems like trouble is able to find some people better than others, especially me." Dean kneeled down in front of me, releasing my back and looking up to catch my gaze. I was slightly startled by his sudden softness and directness.

"Look, Kris, I'm not sure what is happening, but something big is going on around here, and whether you like it or not, you seem to be involved," Dean explained. Looking down into his eyes, I felt his charm wash over me, and I couldn't help but blush again.

"I've never had a vision before Dean," I started to explain, nervously brushing my hair behind my right ear, "All I know is that something evil has been following me around for a long time and since I met you and Sam, things have started to escalate. Its strange and its scary and I don't know what is happening." The words caught in my throat, what I was telling Dean was the first personal information I had confided in someone since death had decimated my life.

Dean didn't move. He stayed kneeling in front of my knees looking up into my eyes. I felt like he was looking for something, so I met his gaze. Slowly, he lifted his hand and brushed several loose strands of hair behind my ear. I felt my breath catch in my chest as Dean gently pulled away and rose to his feet.

As if on cue, Sam emerged from the bathroom, drying his hands with a towel.

"We need to do some research...I need to do some research," he announced. Dean looked at him and shrugged his shoulders.

"So open up the laptop and do some research," Dean taunted.

"There's no WiFi here Dean. Besides, I think our best bet is to get Bobby involved," Sam explained.

"Who is Bobby?" I asked.

"A friend. A trust-worthy friend," Dean replied and glanced over to me.

"I'll leave in the morning, and I shouldn't be gone for more than three days," Sam continued, "You've got enough food and supplies to last until I get back."

"Sammy, I don't want you heading out alone. It's dangerous. With all this Lilith crap and strange happenings...No, we can do research here in town."

"We've got to figure out what is going on Dean," Sam argued, "I think this is our best best for getting the fastest and most reliable answers."

Dean shook his head and looked at the ground. I noticed exhaustion in his body language.

"Fine," Dean finally conceded.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: The Oldest Winchester

True to his word, Sam left the next day. He threw his clothes into a duffel bag and hit the road before the sun had a chance to rise. Dean was obviously upset by his brother's departure and when he thought I was sleeping, disappeared from the room for an hour.

When Dean finally returned, I was sitting up in bed trying to comb my snarled hair with my fingers.

"Good morning, I didn't think you would be up for a couple more hours," Dean greeted downheartedly.

"I couldn't really sleep," I admitted, giving up on my hair and watching Dean set a brown paper bag on the table across the room.

"More baby food?" I tried to joke.

"God no. I understand that Sam means well, but I'm sure you are dying to eat something real," Dean chuckled and grinned sheepishly.

"Cheeseburgers?" I asked, still trying to lighten the atmosphere.

Dean looked directly at me and smiled. His head was cocked slightly and I felt a tension lift between us.

"No. Even I have a limit for cheeseburgers," Dean paused and grinned into the paper bag. He reached down and pulled out some paper cups and two small boxes, "Just some coffee and scrambled eggs from the diner down the road, do you feel up to trying to eat some real food?"

"I love scrambled eggs and coffee," I replied.

Grabbing some plastic forks from the paper bag, Dean sat down on the bed next to me and handed me a cup of coffee and a small styrofoam box filled with the best scrambled eggs I have ever eaten. I nursed the coffee, but eventually had to give up when the caffeine started to make me dizzy. Dean just smiled and poured the remainder of my coffee into his cup.

When we were finished Dean's expression became more serious and I could sense he was about to bring up a difficult subject.

"So your parents died when you were young?" he asked and looked at the floor.

I gulped, "Sam is making you find out more about my past, right? Its part of the research?"

Dean didn't answer immediately, but he started to slowly wring his hands together and continued to gaze at the carpet. "Yep," he finally admitted.

I watched Dean's expression intently, "Dean, in the past, anyone I have ever opened up to has wound up dead. Are you sure you want me to answer your research questions?" I asked honestly.

"I'm a big boy with a lot of weapons. I can take care of myself," Dean replied and sat up to meet my gaze, "And Sammy's smile can melt the heart of the Devil himself."

I paused and bit my lip, silently debating about what I should tell Dean. "Yeah, my entire family died when I was young. One-by-one, they were removed from my life."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Dean said sincerely.

I didn't have a reply. It had been many years since I talked about my family. It was easier to repress the memories and force my way through the day emotionless.

"It was something supernatural?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, no, well, probably..." I stumbled, "Its hard to say for some of them, but my last boyfriend had the life squeezed out of him by a poltergeist, so that's pretty supernatural," I finally muttered. I clasped my hands together and set them in my lap, hoping that controlling my body would help me control the emotional turmoil surfacing in my voice.

"How did you manage to avoid all that death?" Dean asked pointedly.

I lifted an eyebrow and looked intently at him, "the police always asked the same thing...I was actually a suspect in several of the more violent cases," I paused and tried to shrug my bandaged shoulders, "The reality is that I didn't really escape," I finally concluded.

"How so?" Dean asked.

"In the first incident, I was stabbed in my, uh, belly. And when my boyfriend was killed, the poltergeist attacked me too. My ovaries were the only organs to really take a beating though."

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, then, "So, you can't have..." Dean trailed off and coughed uncomfortably.

"No, I can never have children," I paused then jokingly added, "unless something supernatural happens." I chuckled to myself for a moment and then paused as something terrifying settled over me. Dean's smile shifted to a concerned frown.

"Kris, what's wrong? You've turned as white as a ghost," Dean demanded. He sat up alertly and pressed a palm to my cheek, "Kris, hey, Kris, are you okay?"

"Plant the seed...our mother..." I muttered to myself, scenes from the vision last night began to flood my thoughts. A sick realization washed over me, "something supernatural..." I continued, connecting the pieces.

"Kris?" Dean moved closer to me and lifted my chin so my gaze could meet his.

I blinked several times and forced myself to focus on Dean's face. "Can you get in contact with Sam?" I finally squeaked.

"I've got his cell number," Dean nodded slowly.

"In my vision last night, the yellow-eyed figure called the baby a mother...he told Lilith to 'plant a seed' when the time was right," I explained slowly, "I think that child was me. I think they were setting up the conditions for a 'Mary and Joseph' situation gone dark side."

Dean blinked, absorbing the information, "Huh, that's an interesting theory," he finally said leaning away from me.

"Hey, I can hear the sarcasm. Its fine if you don't think that is what is happening, but I want to make sure there isn't anything in the research about a foretold event like that. I want to make sure that demons, or anything else supernatural, or worse, can't be born from human mothers," I snapped. "Can you get in contact with Sam and have him do some extra research?" I asked and tried to soften my tone.

"Yeah." Dean gulped and rose to his feet. He pulled a cell phone from his jeans and flipped it open.

Sitting in the bed was becoming too overwhelming. I suddenly felt greasy and covered in a film of darkness. I slowly threw my feet onto the floor and gently lifted myself out of bed. Dean had his back momentarily turned to me as he dialed Sam's number.

"Dean," I nearly whispered, "I am going to take a shower...I need to wash all this off of me," I tried to explain. Dean spun around and nodded, he was listening intently to the cell phone pressed against his ear.

Hesitantly, I walked past Dean and went into the bathroom. My legs were still wobbly beneath my body and I felt a new weight pressing down on my shoulders. The vision from the night before, the lifetime of supernatural events, the strange connection between my barren body and motherhood was unnerving, even in a remote hotel room with scratchy bed sheets.

I turned on the water and unbuttoned my flannel shirt, letting it and my borrowed boxers fall on the floor. Bandages were taped all over my body, and I tried my best to remove the unnecessary bandages while keeping the necessary bandages in place. I knew that stitches needed to be kept dry, and as I stepped into the shower I maneuvered the best I could to keep stitched wounds away from the spray. In the end, I gave up, closed my eyes, and let the hot water wash over my entire body, praying that the water would wash away all the heart-ache and fear as well.


End file.
